Of Dirigible Plum Bushes, Snargaluffs and Death
by Vanille Strawberry
Summary: The way Ron had said it: ‘nice kid, funny, good at Quidditch.’ Like Fred. But unlike that Hufflepuff, Fred had died fighting Death Eaters, trying to stop them-- not imitating them. Mild H/G


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to J.K Rowling.**

A/N: I could not keep away from this fandom. Once I started writing, I just kept going and going. I'm also very proud to say that this is my first fan-fiction as a fifteen year old! It's like a stepping stone, a large leap from the small little eleven year old who's grammatical errors made readers shiver in disgust. Now I can _actually _write something decent.

I really hope you like it. A small note: The first paragraph and last paragraph sort of mirror each other. You'll see.

Another note: I don't think I spelled _Dissaparate _right.

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**-**Of Dirigible Plum Bushes, Snargaluffs and Death**-**

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Ginny had some trouble getting asleep. A violent storm raged outside, rain and wind battling for dominance, battering and attacking her home unmercifully. She could not help but mourn the loss of the freshly planted Dirigible Plum bushes that Luna had given her a few days prior. Surely, they would have unearthed and probably blown twenty miles away by now. Along with the potted Snargaluff outside the front porch.

A knock roused Ginny to attention. It was at the front door; she recognised the loud clanking of the brass knocker on wood. She slipped out of bed and padded silently into the corridor and down the stairs. The replica of the Weasley clock in the hall told Ginny that it was well past midnight, no decent hour for any visitor. The knocking increased.

"Who's there?" Ginny called, grasping her wand that she luckily had the sense to grab off the bedside table. She pointed it at the door.

"It's Ron."

Ginny caught herself in time, hand outstretched to unlock the door. She bit her lip and said in a tight voice, "How old was Ron when he stopped wetting the bed?"

She heard a loud groan and a hollow thud. A moment passed and Ginny became alarmed, wand held aloft should the intruder try to force his way inside. She mouthed a list of hexes that she could use and rifled through some curses she had uncovered by re-reading her old Hogwarts books.

"Seven," the person wheezed.

Ginny let out a breath. It _was _Ron. She quickly opened the door and let her soaking brother inside, his boots leaving dark muddy footprints on the carpet. Ginny wrinkled her nose and promised herself that once she had dealt with her visitor she would attack the stains. She hurried into the kitchen after Ron, watching as he threw his cloak carelessly over the back of a chair.

"Please," said Ginny dryly, "Make yourself at home."

"What?" Ron looked startled. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down heavily on the closest chair, his longs legs bent and his elbows on his knees. "Sorry, been a rough night. Thought I should check up on you before I went home."

Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. A shiver ran down the length of her spine and the beat of her heart quickened. She took in her brother's appearance for the first time. The light made everything worse. His pants were torn, his shirt splattered with blood, deep gashes and wounds stood out in contrast against his pale skin-- raw and angry looking.

"R-Ron--" Ginny gasped, "What happened?"

Ron heaved a heavy sigh, eyes drooping closed and fingers rubbing at his temples. Sensing a story in the making, Ginny conjured a stool that she could sit on to face her brother.

"Caught a couple of would-be Death Eaters causing a bit of trouble up in Tottenham. Nothing major, nothing we couldn't handle." Ron opened his eyes and caught her gaze. "Course, they weren't going to go down without a fight. Bloody ignorant kids--" he spat. "And lo and behold, one git was stupid enough to try his hand out at an _Avada Kedavra_."

"… Harry?" Ginny whispered fretfully, eyes unnaturally wide.

"Didn't hit any of our lot," Ron assured her. "Harry hadn't arrived yet. He was off on patrol with Harold Chestnut." Ron said over his sister's sigh of relief, "The prat's curse hit one of his own. They all Disaparated and left him there."

"Oh, god …"

Ron gave a twisted smirk. "Kid couldn't have been more than eighteen. He was still in school when we left, I think. Nice kid, funny, good at Quidditch too. Hufflepuff. His older brother works in Magical Maintenance at the Ministry."

Ginny's mind conjured images. A faceless youth being transported to St. Mungo's hospital and Ron forced to relay to his sibling the fruitless death that his brother had endured. She saw him, the Hufflepuff's brother, weeping in hysterics and wetting the front of his navy robes. Ginny swallowed painfully.

"Where's Harry?" she demanded suddenly. She wanted him home. She needed him near her.

Ron sighed. "Gone to tell the boy's family. He should be home soon enough. I promised him I'd come home and tell you." Ron stood, his limbs unlocking from their bent positions. He stretched and put on his cloak, hugging his sister tightly and kissing the top of her head.

"Tell Hermione I said, 'hi'." said Ginny.

"Will do. Mind yourself-- and could we _please _find a better question to ask? What if you had guests and they heard?" Ron's cheeks had gone scarlet as Ginny opened the door. The wind teased her hair and the rain splattered over her cheeks.

"That you stopped wetting the bed at seven? Are you joking? It's the best safety question I've ever thought of. No way I'm changing it," she laughed.

Ron grumbled but took his leave into the wild night. She watched him hop the fence and Dissaparate with a loud _crack._ Ginny closed the door behind her and brushed her hair to the side. The visit had left her reeling and it was only now that the she could actually grasp the situation. Someone had died. A youngster with a family.

Harry would be heartbroken when he got home.

Ginny staggered to the kitchen and collapsed in Ron's chair, the seat still wet and soggy. She placed her wand carefully on the table and rubbed her cheek tiredly with a shaking hand. The way Ron had said it: 'nice kid, funny, good at Quidditch.' Like Fred. But unlike that Hufflepuff, Fred had died fighting Death Eaters, trying to stop them-- not imitating them.

The bottom step creaked. Ginny's head snapped to the doorway. The hallway was dark, the streetlamp outside shone brightly through the glazed window by the front door. A shadow passed.

Ginny shot to her feet, snatching her wand and pointing it warningly at the figure shrouded by darkness.

" … Ginny?"

The little voice made her deflate. Teddy came into the light of the kitchen, his brown eyes wide and watery. Ginny had obviously scared him. She crouched to his level and he ran at her, arms locking tightly around her neck. Ginny hoisted him into her arms and kissed his head, her hand rubbing his little back in circles. Teddy was coughing tearless sobs into her shoulder.

"Oh, Teddybear. Did I scare you? I'm sorry," she crooned. "I didn't expect you out of bed."

Teddy pushed his face away from her neck. Ginny studied his face gently. He had Remus' features, but Tonks' smile and laugh. His eyes were large and soft, bright like his fathers. Whenever Ginny looked into them, she wanted to gather the little boy into her arms and shield him from all of life's miseries.

"I had a bad dream," the boy whispered in shame. His eyes spilled over, bottom lip trembling.

"Oh, Teddy…" Ginny said sadly. She rocked them both, kissing his mousy hair and whispering inaudible comforts in his ear. His back trembled against her hands.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed, "… I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head softly, carrying his still crying form into the hall and up the stairs. The bottom step creaked when she stepped on it, as it had for the young Lupin. Teddy was always apologising for himself.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Teddy," she said. She struggled to hold her wand out whilst trying to support Teddy securely to her side. "_Lumos."_

The corridor lit up brightly. Ginny watched smugly as Teddy's eyes followed her wand, his gaze captured by the ghostly pale blue light emanating from the wands tip. Ginny marched into Teddy's room and with a flick of her wrist, light flooded the room.

She walked over Teddy's discarded toys, a couple of pencils and a large plush owl that Harry had bought him in Diagon Alley. It hooted when you tugged on its beak. Teddy loved it. She placed him gingerly on the bed and bent to retrieve the owl.

"Looks like you dropped something."

Teddy smiled and held his arms out for the toy. Ginny handed it over and Teddy hugged it close to his small chest, crawling under the covers. His eyes followed Ginny's movements as she picked his toys and put them back in their place, muttering a charm so that his pencils flew back into an open drawer of his desk.

Ginny sat at the side of his bed and smiled softly. He was looking at her, his thin face alight with a glowing curiosity and gentleness.

"Are you ready to go back to sleep?"

Teddy nodded.

Ginny tucked the covers under his chin, plumping his pillow and kissed his forehead lovingly. The little boy gave a jaw-breaking yawn and settled against his pillow drowsily. All thoughts of his nightmare had fled. Ginny was glad of it.

She closed the door softly after her.

When she had rejoined her own bed, Ginny found once again that she could not sleep. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Instead she found herself listening to the rain and wind outside, rattling at the windows. Ginny blinked at the ceiling and hoped that Harry would come home soon.

In the dead of night, Ginny mourned the loss of the unknown Hufflepuff boy, Fred, Teddy's parents, Harry's horrible evening and the freshly planted Dirigible Plum bushes that Luna had given her a few days prior, along with the potted Snargaluff outside the front porch.

It was a long night.


End file.
